Cookie Monster
by Salazarfalcon
Summary: For the Glee Fluff Meme: Making cookies was a lot easier when a giant wasn't around to eat half the cookie dough. In which Kurt summons a demonic invasion, Rachel Berry is overzealous, and Finn still eats half the bowl.


Cookie Monster

* * *

><p>Summary: For a prompt on the Glee Fluff Meme: Kurt: Making cookies was a lot easier when a giant wasn't around to eat half the cookie dough.<p>

In which Kurt summons a demonic invasion, Rachel Berry is overzealous, and Finn_ still_ eats half the bowl.

* * *

><p>Disclaimer: Yeah. No.<p>

* * *

><p>Flour.<p>

Butter.

Eggs.

Brown and white sugar.

Baking soda, vanilla, and a pinch of salt.

Chocolate chunks out the wazoo.

Kurt surveyed the ingredients that he'd laid out on the counter with the look of a lord ruling over his peasantry, benevolent and powerful.

"Today," he announced with pomp, "You will reach your full potential. No longer will you be used for senseless snacking, breading, or scrambling. No, no, today you will be made into—"

"Oh my god, Kurt, are you making cookies?"

Kurt froze, knowing that voice and knowing all that it meant.

"…No," he replied, "No, absolutely not. Why would you think that? I am making scrambled eggs with vanilla and chocolate. Get out of my kitchen."

Finn Hudson. Giant, stepbrother, and bane of his culinary existence.

It was one thing to possess a weakness for cookie dough. Kurt had that weakness in spades. But generally, when _he_ ate cookie dough, it would be a few fingerfuls and then the rest would get baked. …mostly. Unless it was exam week, and then he might eat two or three entire batches before one morsel hit the oven, but that was the exception, not the norm.

Then there was Finn. Finn who seemed to gravitate to the bowl whenever Kurt took his attention away. Finn, who caused disturbances upstairs _with his mind_ that made Kurt have to go and see to it, and then eat half of the bowl before he returned.

Finn Hudson: Cookie Monster.

"Dude, why would you do that? It sounds gross."

Guarding the ingredients, Kurt sent his stepbrother stink-eye with the force of Chuck Norris.

"Because I want to. Scrambled eggs with chocolate sound awesome. I'm prepping for Easter. Get out."

"You should make cookies."

"Finn Hudson, I am about two and a half inches away from throwing something at you and I am in a room full of knives. Do not test me."

"Can I watch?"

"No," Kurt replied immediately, folding his arms resolutely over his chest. Not today, Finn Hudson, not today. "Thing is, Finn, this is a secret ritual. I must be left in complete solitude with no interruptions, lest everything fall to ruination."

Finn's eyes narrowed.

Kurt almost felt guilty. Almost. If only he hadn't made it so blasted _easy_ to dupe him and so blasted _difficult_ to make some freaking cookies in peace without having to protect the bowl.

"Yeah, dude, you're speaking English but you still make no sense. It's bad though, right?"

Kurt rubbed his temples.

"Yes. Very, very bad. I'm talking, like, Armageddon bad. If my focus slips _even a little bit_, we are all doomed for eternity," Kurt couldn't help it, he was getting into the role and enjoying it more by the second, "But I will need your help."

Oh, this was too easy.

"Chocolate eggs are that serious?"

"Yes. What I need you to do is to sit on the porch and watch outside. If something goes wrong, the sky will go dark and the shadows of a thousand demons will start coming out of the trees and the cracks in the streets, and the wind will whistle _just like Rachel_. If you wait too long, the house will start oozing blood and the city will be filled with the songs of a badly tuned pipe organ."

"…shit. Yeah, okay. I'll keep watch."

And then he was gone and the front door had shut, and Kurt knew from the sounds that Finn had taken up residence in the porch swing.

Kurt covertly pumped his fist in the air when the tall boy left the room. Okay, so maybe he felt a _little_ bit bad for the lie, but he'd make it up to him when they were safely baked. It was such a terrible lie; he thought Finn almost deserved it for believing him. He'd still bring him cookies anyway though. Kurt could sacrifice a few things to stay in his good graces.

Twenty minutes later, he'd forgotten about it entirely and he'd just ripped off a sheet of parchment paper to set upon the baking sheet when he heard it.

Thunder rumbled.

The door _slammed_ and not ten seconds later, Finn had flung himself into the kitchen.

"Oh my god, dude, you were right! I think you did something wrong, it started to storm and got all crazy windy, and I _totally heard Rachel,_ and—what the hell, you said you were making Easter eggs!" Finn had started out frantic and worried but had morphed to indignant, "You're making cookies, you liar!"

And then with the deliberation of one who'd planning for a very long time, Finn reached out a hand and scooped a palmful of dough out of the bowl and began eating it, glaring at Kurt all the while.

"I regret nothing!" The shorter boy declared shrilly, "And stop that, why do you think I lied in the first place? Do that again and you die, you haven't washed your _hands_!"

"What, just make more! It doesn't hurt you."

Finn glared, and Kurt glared right back.

"You are a terrible human being."

"And you lied to me. I was afraid that we were _doomed_, you jerk."

Kurt almost interrupted to inform him that he was by no means an experienced liar and that it was entirely Finn's fault that he believed him, before his brain caught onto something else.

"Wait a second...lying aside, did I heard you say that you actually did hear Rachel? Unless you're lying to me to get back at me."

"No, sorry, my name's not Kurt 'Pants-on-Fire' Hummel. I did hear her." Finn looked confused now instead of consternated, matching his stepbrother's expression. "If we're not in the middle of a demonic takeover, what did I hear?"

Suddenly, Kurt froze.

…No.

She wouldn't.

A light bulb went off over Kurt's head, and his face went resigned. Who was he kidding? Of course she would.

"That's your idea face."

"Yes," Kurt said with a sigh, "Unfortunately yes, it is." He took out his phone, set it to speaker, and dialed a number. While it rang, he set it in the middle of the table and beckoned Finn closer, motioning for him to stay silent.

"_Hello? Kurt?"_

"Yes, hello, Rachel. Crazy weather we're having, isn't it?"

"_What's going on? No way you're calling about the _weather._"_

"Wait for it," Kurt whispered as quietly as he could to Finn, before a gasp could be heard through the receiver.

"_Oh my god, how dare you? You're stealing my practice technique, aren't you?"_

"My dear, I have _no_ idea what you're talking about."

"_Oh, come off it! Like you don't know that storms are perfect for projection practice. All you have to know is which direction the wind is blowing, and you open a window and go for it. And—blast you, I just gave it away. Tell anyone and die, Hummel."_ With the parting threat, the connection was cut and the call ended. Kurt sighed audibly and pinched the bridge of his nose. Finn just looked dumbfounded.

"Did…did she _really_?" He asked, and Kurt couldn't do anything but shake his head wryly.

"Afraid so. Miss Rachel Berry practices projecting into thunderstorms. There is something wrong with that girl."

Blue eyes traveled from his stepbrother to the bowl on the counter, back to Finn. Finally, he growled under his breath and stalked over the oven, turning it off and grabbing the bowl. Kurt essentially flung himself into one of the chairs bordering the table, plunking himself down and scooping out a decent gob of dough onto his index finger. A second later he'd popped it into his mouth, eyes closing with bliss.

"You win this time," Kurt said finally and most begrudgingly, pushing the bowl over so that his stepbrother could have better access, "Next time, though? There really _will_ be a demonic invasion, and I will be leading it. With zombies."

Finn didn't bother responding because the threat of zombies had _nothing_ on Kurt's cookie dough.

* * *

><p>AN: And there you have it. I don't know where this ridiculous piece of idiocy came from but it was a blast to write. Please leave a review if you liked it, or even if you want to set a demonic invasion on <em>me<em> instead.


End file.
